Fighting Back
by SophieSaulie
Summary: Takes place after Born Under a Bad Sign so spoilers to that episode. Dean's feeling lousy, but Sam needs some answers
1. Chapter 1

**Fighting Back**

**Chapter 1**

After Meg had been driven out of Sam, Dean collapsed. His whole body felt like jello. He felt weak from pain and blood loss. He had driven non-stop to Bobby's to get to Sam before he could hurt Bobby or himself. He had only taken one of Jo's painkillers so that he could keep himself sharp yet keep the pain manageable, but it was wearing off and the full force of it was returning. Bobby helped him sit at his desk opposite Sam who had seemed none too worse for wear. Bobby brought Dean an ice bag to put on his face and he gratefully took it. A small sigh followed its placement on his left cheek. Sam had made a feeble joke about how crappy he looked to break the tension and Dean tiredly quipped back.

Dean could tell that Sam had other things on his mind and was trying to broach them with him. Dean just wanted to crawl into a bed and sleep off the last couple of days, but he knew that would have to wait. Sam was on shaky ground. When he had learned that Meg had possessed him, he had felt devastated. He had remembered killing Steve Wandell and other smaller memories were starting to filter through and they were just as scary. He remembered knocking Dean out, ending up at Jo's and everything he had done to her as well. Sam didn't know what had hurt her more, tormenting her about how her father had died or that Dean didn't share her feelings. He had really done a number on her. He would never expect nor ask for her forgiveness given all he had done. His worst memory though was of hitting Dean over and over again just moments ago. No matter how many times he had tried to block it out, he couldn't. What haunted him the most was Dean's lack of resistance to the beating he had gotten. He hadn't fought back, hadn't thrown a single punch, except at the end when he had thrown a brotherly taunt kind of punch. Sam didn't understand why, but he needed to know.

"Dean, I need to ask you something."

"Ask me what?"

"Why didn't you fight back?"

Dean grimaced from the pain in his shoulder as it radiated down his arm. He squeezed it close to his body to keep the jarring to a minimum.

"Sammy, it doesn't matter."

"Yeh, it does, Dean. I was hitting you over and over again –"

"You weren't. Meg was."

"All the more reason to fight back, to protect yourself. I – She could have killed you." Sam tried to correct.

"No worries, you hit like a girl anyway." Dean tried to joke.

"Stop kidding around."

Dean squirmed under the gentle inquisition.

"Dean, why?"

Dean took in a breath and sighed.

"Because I didn't want to hurt you, okay?" Dean said finally.

"What? But I was hurting you. You should have fought back."

"It wasn't you, Sam. I…" Dean swallowed heavily, keeping his emotions in check. "Can't you just leave it at that?"

"I can't, Dean. I keep seeing myself hitting you and I –"

Dean saw the pain in his eyes and sighed again, knowing Sam deserved the truth.

"Because I hit you."

"What?" Sam asked, truly confused.

"Back when we were looking for the vampires…in the parking lot…" Dean stuttered. "I hit you, Sammy…I have never hit you like that…and I've never wanted to hit you like that, but that night…"

Dean looked down at his hands. He saw them tremble then clenched his right hand into a fist from the memory.

"I was out of control, I know…but that's just an excuse. You're my brother. It's my job to take care of you, to protect you."

"You were hurting. You didn't mean to –"

"Don't, Sam," Dean said simply. "I know I lost it, but you were the last person I should have taken my anger out on."

Dean grimaced as pain hit his shoulder again.

"I know I've hit you before…"

"Yeh, like the night I took the Impala out on my date," Sam smiled at the memory.

Dean smiled wryly, "You mean 'stole', don't you?"

"Hey, I just 'borrowed' it."

"You hotwired it, Sam," Dean corrected.

"Dude, you were ready to kill me."

"Yeh…" Dean said as they shared a smile, but his quickly faded.

"What?" Sam asked quietly, knowing the moment was gone.

"But that night was different. I…"

"What, Dean?"

"I can't." Dean looked away.

"Tell me. It's okay."

Dean looked up into Sam's face, his own looking ghostly pale.

"Sam, it's not just about the punch…"

"Then what?"

"For a just a second…" Dean swallowed thickly, "I hated you, Sammy."

"Dean, I shouldn't have confronted you like that about Dad. After what he did –"

"You didn't know that."

"You could have told me," Sam said.

"I couldn't. You were coping with Dad's death and I…all I could feel was empty…I couldn't… I just couldn't bring you down with me."

"Dean, you loved Dad. You were in a world of hurt. I understand that."

"Sam, you gotta know that I don't hate you. I don't. I hated myself."

"I know you don't hate me, Dean. I just wished you could have felt that you could talk to me about it. Being there for each other, it's what brothers do for each other, man. It's what you've always done for me." Sam said, emotion in his voice. "It still doesn't make it okay for me to wail on you and for to you not to defend yourself."

The pain ran deep and it was something that he still hadn't gotten over. Dean turned away for a second then looked back.

"Sam -" Dean started.

"I could have killed you, Dean," Sam said, his voice a hushed tremor.

Dean was struck silent for a moment at the raw guilt and sincerity in Sam's voice.

"I could hurt you again…maybe even kill you the next time. Nothing scares me more than that. I don't know what I'd do if -"

"Listen to me, Sam. You have NEVER hurt me-"

"You know that's a lie, Dean," Sam said with a touch of resignation in his voice.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know." Sam just said simply. "When I shot you at the asylum."

Sam stiffened with a flash of memory. He saw Dean standing at the end of a pier, turning towards him to see a gun in his hand, a loud blast, then he saw Dean fall into the water below. Sam gasped.

"Oh my God, I shot you, didn't I? The shoulder…I remember now," Sam said with shock and disgust as the memory took hold.

"Sam -." Dean said tiredly.

"How could you keep that from me?"

"Because it wasn't you. You didn't shoot me. Meg did."

"Stop making excuses for me!" Sam yelled. "How can you let me hurt you over and over again and believe that I couldn't kill you? Hell, I'm wondering it."

"Because I know you."

"Do you?" Sam asked pointedly.

Dean stared at Sam wide-eyed at his question. It made him angry that Sam would question his belief in him.

"Yeh, I do," Dean said emphatically. "You're not a killer. You don't have it in you and before you say it, you would never kill an innocent, not without a reason, not unless there was no other choice. Yeh, you've killed demons, spirits and other monsters, but you have NEVER harmed a person. Hell, you convinced me not to kill Lenore, remember? A killer doesn't do that, Sam!"

"I killed Steve Wandell."

"How many times do I have to keep saying it? That wasn't you."

"It was my hands doing it. It was my eyes watching the light go out in his."

"You were possessed, damn it!" Dean yelled then hissed as the pain hit his shoulder.

"I should have been strong enough to fight it! I should have known what was happening to me."

"That's a load of crap, Sam, and you know it. All the years we've been doing this job, you know that no one can fight off possession or can resist a demon's control over them. It makes you human, not evil."

"But you know that demons exploit weaknesses. I was weak."

"Not weak, Sam, vulnerable. There's a difference. Everyone is vulnerable."

"How is that different? It just means I can be gotten to."

"Bobby's charms will keep those bastards from getting into us. It won't happen again."

"I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am."

"Dean, if you can't hurt me, how are you going to kill –"

"Shut up, Sam!"

"No, I need to know that you won't let your feelings get in the way when I become…when I need you to…you said it yourself…you'd rather die than kill me."

Dean rubbed his hand across his face and hair in tired frustration. He felt the heat of his skin and the beads of sweat, but he kept silent. He knew that his body would soon betray him anyway. His mind was busy trying to find the words that would get through to Sam.

"And I still would. I won't apologize or regret saying it," Dean said determinedly as he looked into Sam's eyes unflinchingly.

"Then how –"

"You have doubts about yourself right now. I get that. I've been there. Hell, having a girl inside me for a week would give me the freaks, too, but you will NEVER convince me that I should doubt the kind of man you are. Never, do you hear me?" Dean said firmly, trying to drive the point home. "You can fight this. Instead of wasting time questioning whether you can or not or if I can kill you or not, maybe you should try to see yourself the way I do."

Sam peered into the piercing gaze of his brother. It bore into him with a ferocity he didn't think he could feel from just a look. Still, Sam could see Dean was in serious pain, holding himself together through his indomitable will, but he could tell he was slowly losing control.

"You're strong, Sammy. I don't know how else to prove it to you other than telling you that I know it as sure I know that we will always be brothers. It's that simple."

Sam watched, as Dean never looked away from him when he spoke his words. He couldn't help a shaky smile creep onto his face. His brother's unwavering belief in him palpable, giving him the strength he could always count on whenever he needed it.

"Guess we're kind of stuck with each other then, huh?"

Dean relaxed his stance and took in the breath he had been holding, waiting for Sam to say something. Along with the release, he felt all that he had been holding back breaking the surface of his weakening control.

"Afraid so," Dean said then closed his eyes and squeezed his shoulder. Sam could see that the pain was getting worse and he was worried that something else might be wrong. "'Til death do us part."

"So not funny," Sam smiled.

"It's a little funny," Dean half-grinned half-grimaced.

Dean was in real pain now. Trying to keep control over it had exhausted him. He had no more reserves left to fight it off. He had gone too long after Meg had done a number on his wound. It had been bleeding steadily and he had felt the wetness underneath his hand. The combination of pain and blood loss was making him feel weak and woozy, two things he hated feeling.

Sam looked into Dean's eyes as he held his shoulder. How could he not have noticed the pain Dean was in? Sam knew all too well. He had been guilty of being self-absorbed for most of his life, often overlooking Dean's needs to satisfy his own, ignoring the queues that Dean had a talent for concealing, but Sam knew that if he had stopped thinking about himself for a change, he would've seen them written all over Dean's face.

He saw the exhaustion in his brother's eyes and went over to him. By the time he got to him, Dean was slowly going limp. Sam caught him before he slid out of his chair.

"Dean?" Sam asked, immediate worry etching his face when he felt how hot Dean was. Infection.

Sam gently lifted Dean's face up to check on him.

"Dean?" He called again.

Dean took in a difficult breath. He then opened his eyes barely into slits.

"S…Sam…" Dean struggled out before his eyes closed again.

"Bobby!" Sam called out.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**Thanks to Tiffany for being my beta for this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Fighting Back**

**Chapter 2**

Dean hissed from the magnified sharpness of Sam calling out to Bobby. The room was blurring and spinning and he could barely hold himself up. Suddenly, he felt arms on one side of him. When he looked over, he saw Sam, his face creased with lines of worry.

Bobby came into the room and saw Sam lifting Dean up off his chair.

"Can you give me a hand? Dean is burning up. I think he has an infection."

Bobby nodded and helped Sam get Dean into one of his spare rooms. Dean was fading in and out of consciousness, but every jar to his shoulder kept him from falling completely into blissful unconsciousness. Bobby helped Sam get Dean's jacket off. Jo's painkillers spilled out and Bobby picked them up.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Pain killers. Strong ones."

Sam looked at Dean.

"How did he get a hold of those?"

"The name on the bottle is Jo Harvelle. Bill Harvelle's kid?"

"Yeh, she's hunting now. I'll explain later," Sam evaded, remembering what he had done to her and not wanting to relive it again, not when Dean needed him clear headed. "She must have given them to him. She probably found him after I – Meg shot him."

Sam tore open Dean's shirt. It was already soaked with his blood and ruined anyway. The wound was enflamed and still bleeding pretty heavily. Sam was amazed, but not surprised that Dean had lasted so long without passing out. Sam was convinced that Dean had reserves that no normal man possessed. Sheer will alone could keep him going for a long time.

Dean's breathing was quickening and when Sam checked his pulse, it felt fast and thready. Dean licked his lips.

"Thirsty," He rasped and grimaced.

Sam asked Bobby to bring a glass of water. In the meantime, Sam pulled two pain pills from the bottle. Dean would need them when he started working on the wound. Bobby brought over the water and Sam gently propped Dean up. Dean hissed and moaned with the jolt of pain the movement caused.

"Drink these. It'll help with the pain. I'm going to have to work on the wound and that's going to–"

"Hurt like a mother…" Dean finished with a weak smile.

"Yeh."

Dean took the pills and then the glass. He gulped them with one swallow and handed the glass back to Sam. He breathed in a deep sigh.

"Why didn't you tell me you were this bad?"

"It's not that bad, Sam. I've had worse. It doesn't hurt," Dean said, as he couldn't hide a grimace and a grunt, "much."

Sam smiled and shook his head in mock dismay.

"You're a freak, you know that?"

"Yeh, right back at ya," Dean smiled, but his eyelids were growing heavier and he knew Sam hadn't missed the sweat on his face. "Is it just me, or is it warm in here?"

"It's just you," Sam kidded, but then became serious. "You know you have an infection. I-Meg did a number on the wound."

"Sam, it wasn't your fault. None of it, are we clear on that now?"

"Yeh, we're good, Dean…" Sam trailed off.

"What?"

"I'm just worried about your fever. I don't know if Bobby has antibiotics."

"He's a hunter. He'll have them." Dean breathed heavily. "I'll be fine. You worry too much, you know that?"

"Someone has to. You're always getting yourself into trouble," Sam joked.

Sam smiled and watched as Dean's eyes drooped closed. Sam stayed silent to let him slip into unconsciousness. Dean had earned the rest. Sam let his mind wander. He wondered how Dean had kept on going for as long as he had. He had come so close to giving up because of the burden their father had lain upon him. The terrible knowledge that he might have to kill Sam and his innate need to protect him had almost pulled him asunder. Was it any wonder Dean had hit him that night? Sam had pushed him too far and had reminded him of what their Dad had asked him to do. Sam had never been so scared in his life. He never could have imagined that Dean could be so close to surrendering. It wasn't in him to give up, but once he had discovered what Dean had been carrying, Sam couldn't blame him for buckling under the pressure. It had been unfair of their father to put that kind of responsibility on Dean's shoulders, but a twinge of guilt nagged at him because he had done the very same thing. And he knew why. Both he and their father had counted on Dean coming through for them, as he always had, without fail, even if it meant dying on the inside to keep those promises.

The ease with which Meg had taken him over scared Sam. Dean had been right. No one can resist possession and being controlled by a demon, not even him, but still Sam worried. How would his transformation take place? Could he resist it? Would it happen without him knowing it? Would he kill Dean in a whisper of silence? Would Dean realize, while he was dying, that his brother had turned on him? Every scenario that involved killing Dean scared him. He knew he could depend on Dean being there to save him, but that certainty gave life to its own set of doubts. What if by trying to save him, Dean was sacrificed? Could he live through that? If he killed Dean with his own hands, he knew that he wouldn't. Dean thought that he was the only one who would rather die than kill his brother. Sam felt just as strongly that he, too, would rather perish than live without his brother, to live with the knowledge that he had killed him would be impossible. In a strange way, it was comforting to know that. He only hoped that no matter what happened to him, some part of him who was still Dean's brother would know what he had done and would do the right thing.

Sam shook away his thoughts when Bobby entered the room. He asked him if he had antibiotics and as usual, Dean had been right. Bobby went to retrieve them as well as his first aid supplies to help Sam in dealing with the wound. They had to cauterize a bleeder. There was nothing they could give Dean to knock him out enough to keep him from feeling the pain. Getting him drunk just wasn't an option, though Sam knew it would be the anesthesia of choice for Dean. Dean clenched with the pain and couldn't hold back the occasional cry as they worked to prepare the wound, but Dean had told them to keep going. Sam had to hold Dean down while Bobby sealed the artery. Dean screamed in agony then finally lost unconsciousness. Sam sighed with relief. It killed Sam inside to cause him more pain after all he had already done to him, even if it was necessary. All Sam could think to himself was "Haven't I put him through enough?"

After a few minutes of cleaning the wound, hearing Dean moan and stir occasionally, Sam patched it with a fresh dressing.

He hated waking Dean, but the sooner he got the antibiotics into his system, the better his chances were for fighting the infection.

"Dean?" Sam said softly and shook his brother gently, careful not to disrupt the wound. "Dean, I need you to wake up. Just for a second."

Dean turned his head and opened his eyes. Though everything looked milky through them, he could recognize Sam.

"Sam?" Dean said, his voice gravelly.

"Yeh, can you sit up for a second to take some pills? They're antibiotics."

Dean nodded.

"Told you he'd have them," he joked. "Then will you let me get some sleep?"

Sam smiled, "Yeh, yeh."

Sam helped Dean up and gave him the pills and the glass of water again. Once swallowed, Sam took back the glass and laid Dean back down. He was still too hot for Sam's liking.

"You're becoming quite the Florence Nightingale there," Dean teased tiredly.

"Yeh, lucky for you, jerk. Better behave yourself or I might just give you a sponge bath," Sam teased back, comforted by the banter.

"Bitch…" Dean said as he drifted back asleep.

Sam found himself smiling. It was the little gestures that comforted him the most. Dean's cockiness, his humor, his steadfastness, they were all reassurances that he was okay, that he was still with him and as long as he was with him, Sam could face just about anything. He covered Dean with a blanket and sat in a chair next to the bed to watch him. He hadn't realized how tired he was and soon found himself asleep.

He groggily awoke to moaning. At first, Sam wasn't sure where it was coming from. He then bolted up from his chair when realization hit. Dean was moaning. Sam looked over and to his shock, he found his brother drenched in sweat and breathing shallowly.

"Dean? Can you hear me? Dean? What is it?"

Dean couldn't hear him. He was lost to the ravages of the fever and the hallucinations that were invading his mind.

"Mommy!" Dean whimpered in his delirium, sounding like a small child calling out to his mother.

Sam's eyes widened when he heard him.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Dean's little boy voice cried, "Something's happening to Mommy!"

Sam froze. Dean was reliving that horrible night they had lost their mother. When their world had tipped impossibly askew, changing everything forever. The fever had broken all of Dean's defenses and the memories were flowing, unhindered, revealing things that he had kept to himself.

"Okay, Daddy. I promise to get Sammy out!" Dean declared.

Sam found tears rushing into his eyes. He didn't remember that night, of course, but it pained him to hear Dean relating the moments as if he were going through them right now as a scared four-year old boy. He was being given an unfettered glimpse into a past he had always wondered about, but had never been given the details to. Now it was being unwillingly revealed by a feverish brother who had lived through it all, remembered it vividly, and who had protected him from the horror of those memories all their lives.

"Sammy, don't worry. I'll protect you. I won't leave you. It's okay. I'll make it okay."

Sam bit his bottom lip, fighting the emotions. Dean had promised to protect him when he was just four-years old. He had been comforting him. It made him understand Dean's dogged determination to make sure that no harm came to him. It had begun that night. Sam snapped out of his daze and called out to Bobby. They needed to reduce the fever.

"Bobby! Dean's fever has spiked. He's hallucinating. Can you fill a tub full of cold water and ice, if you have it, for me?"

"You bet," Bobby said as he rushed out to get it ready.

Sam began to undress Dean in preparation to place him into the tub. Dean struggled with the memories that were flooding his mind and was impeding Sam's attempts.

"Please stop fighting with him, Dad. He's not betraying you. He wants more, he deserves more. He's earned it. He's not like you and me. He doesn't have to be…"

Sam realized that Dean was now reliving the time when he had left for Stanford. He hadn't known that Dean had defended him and his choice to go to college to their father.

"If you keep this up, you'll lose him for good. You know you don't want that."

Sam had remembered what Dean had said when he had come to Stanford to get him after their dad had disappeared.

"_I can't do this alone."_

"_Yes, you can."_

"_Yeh, well, I don't want to."_

Then,

"_You know, in almost two years, I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing."_

The memory stung now. In the painful light of hindsight, he understood now how Dean must have felt then. Their father was gone and Sam had been off at college pursuing his dream, ignoring him for almost two years. Dean had been left alone in the most awful way possible. Yet in his delirium, Dean had revealed that he had defended Sam's decision to go to college to their father. He had supported him, once again, at the expense of his own needs, wants, and desires. And the most painful realization was that Dean's needs were simple, almost meager in comparison. He had even expressed them to Sam the night they faced Meg.

"_You, and me, and Dad…I want us to be together again…I want us to be a family again…"_

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**Thanks to Tiffany for being my beta for this story.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Fighting Back**

**Chapter 3**

"_You, and me, and Dad…I want us to be together again…I want us to be a family again…"_

It was all Dean had ever wanted. They had been robbed of so much, but Sam had never realized how much the loss had affected Dean. It wasn't just losing their mother that night. Dean had lost his family, the family that he had known for four years. Sam had been too young to understand what he had lost, but Dean had and it had haunted him all his life.

"The tub's ready, Sam," Bobby said, again, breaking Sam from his thoughts.

"Can you help me?" Sam asked.

They both carried Dean into the bathroom and they gently lowered him into the ice cold water. Dean jerked for a moment as his hot skin hit the water, but the more he was immersed into it, the more he settled down and even sighed with relief, still it didn't stop the hallucinations from coming.

"Sam, please don't leave like this…Dad is just angry…talk to him…"

Bobby noticed the stricken look of guilt on Sam's face. Sam caught the glance and looked away.

"Dean's been hallucinating about the past," Sam said softly.

Bobby noted his reaction. After a few minutes, they pulled him from the tub and dried him off. They dressed him in clean clothes, put a fresh bandage on his wound, and placed him back into bed. Dean was still moaning and mumbling incoherently, but for now, they let him rest.

Sam sat back down in the nearby chair, looking haggard, biting nervously at his fingernail.

"You know," Bobby started hesitantly, "Dean was real proud of you when you went to college. He talked about you all the time. He joked that you must've gotten your smarts from your mother."

Sam nodded, but didn't smile.

"Did he also tell you that I never called him? Even when he left messages?" Sam berated himself angrily, "How could he be proud of a brother who was ashamed of him? Of Dad?"

"He was worried about you, but make no mistake, he was proud of you," Bobby insisted then grinned, "He was more worried you weren't partying enough, that you were spending way too much time in libraries."

Sam couldn't help, but smile then at the thought of Dean saying that, "Yeh, that sounds like him."

Sam looked back over at Dean as his smile died on his face.

"I let him down, Bobby. I thought he was on Dad's side because he wanted me to make peace with him. That's why I ignored his messages. I remember how angry I felt that he had wanted me to apologize to him. I thought Dean had betrayed me, Bobby. I wanted Dad to apologize to me…but now…I realize he just wanted to keep us a family. We were breaking apart and he felt helpless to stop it. I don't know how I could have doubted him."

"Sam, you have never let Dean down and frankly, your father was a royal hard ass. He was pigheaded and always had to be right."

"Dean didn't leave."

"I'll be the first to say that I don't know how your brother put up with John. Hell, I nearly shot him a few times myself, but Dean, he knew how to handle your dad and he also had the patience of Job. Truth is, Dean didn't want to leave your dad alone. After your mother passed and you left for college, he was worried your dad would get reckless and get himself killed. He wanted to watch out for him."

Sam nodded. It made sense that Dean would do that. He had always been about protecting his family.

"Why didn't he stop me? He let me go."

"Because he wanted you to have a life. He wanted you to have a chance at something, be more than just a hunter. He told me that he wanted you to 'have options'."

"But what about him? Didn't he deserve to have those same options?"

Bobby paused for a moment.

"Sam, not everyone is meant for college, maybe not even a normal life, but it doesn't make them a prisoner to the life they were given. Your dad would bust with pride when he talked about what good hunters the both of you were, but he knew that Dean was meant for the work. Hell, maybe even born to do it. Still, there are days when we all wish we could walk away from it, when fighting evil feels like a losing battle. That day happened for Dean when your father passed. The burden of hunting can be too much sometimes and you do make sacrifices…"

Bobby became pensive, remembering something painful in his own past.

"Dean never questioned his life. For him, it was set the moment you lost your mother. He told me once that he fought evil just as much for her as for you. Saving people was even more important to him. He was like a hellhound when it came to saving people. Your dad thought he was being foolish sometimes, but to me, he was just being Dean. He cared. I can tell you it's hard to keep caring. Your dad and I…" Bobby trailed off, "but even Dean couldn't save everyone and it weighed on him. He took it personal."

Sam nodded, "He still does."

"Well, then you understand why saving you is so damn important to him." Bobby said a little sharply. "You are the one person in this whole world he feels he HAS to save. He needs to save you, Sam. Failure is NOT an option where you're concerned."

Bobby took in a breath, "Do you remember anything else that the demon said while you were possessed?"

Sam looked at him puzzled and then afraid, "No, but what did I say?"

"Dean'll kill me for telling you this, but you have to know what he's dealing with. He's gonna need you to help him."

"Bobby, tell me, what is it?"

"They're lies, of course, but you know how easy it can be to believe a lie when you're not sure of yourself. Dean is doing everything he can to keep himself strong and where you're concerned, he has no weaknesses, but it's him I'm worried about. It told him that he was worthless because he couldn't save your dad and that he probably wouldn't be able to save you either. The worst of it was when it told him that you and your dad would have been better off without him. I'm worried he'll believe that. He can't believe that, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened in shock over what Meg had said to him and that it had come out of his own mouth.

"God! No, Bobby, you're right. I can't let him believe that because I know I could never have gotten through any of this without him," he said, then realized how he hadn't helped. "I've been a real selfish son of a bitch and for him to hear that coming out of my mouth…"

"Sam, don't make this all about you." Bobby scolded, "I heard the two of you talking earlier, hard not to in my small place. I'm not telling you all this so you can keep on feeling sorry for yourself. I'm trying to show you how much Dean believes in you. What you're doing now is selfish. He needs you to believe in yourself as much as he does. He can't do this fight alone. He needs you to give him 100. Stop worrying about what's **going** to happen, Sam. You don't know what that something is and feeling sorry for yourself about it is a waste of time. Help your brother **prevent** it from happening. It's what he needs right now. He needs you to believe that he can save you."

Sam let Bobby's words sink in and realized that he was right. Dean had proven all his life that all he cared about was keeping him safe.

"I know, Bobby. You're right."

Bobby nodded and left Sam alone with Dean. Sam heard Dean's heavy breathing and turned to watch him. He was still struggling with the infection and fever. Bobby had been right. Dean was giving him a 100 commitment, as he always had, and he hadn't been doing the same. Dean can't save them both doing it all alone.

"_I can't do this alone."_

"_Yes, you can."_

"_Yeh, well, I don't want to."_

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**Thanks to Tiffany for being my beta for this story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Fighting Back**

**Chapter 4**

After eight hours of giving Dean antibiotics and cooling him off, he wasn't responding. Sam even had Bobby buy one of those electronic thermometers so that he could keep checking him and the fever was still rising. It was 105. Dean's hallucinations were getting more violent and emotional. Sam couldn't make out anything he was saying, but he was thrashing around as if he were experiencing it in the present, and a few times, Sam caught tears in Dean's eyes.

"Bobby, I'm worried. Dean isn't getting any better. Maybe we should take him to the hospital?"

"Sam, you know we can't do that. Hospitals have to report gunshot wounds, but you're right, he's getting worse. I have a doctor friend in the next town. He's helped me out before. I'll bring him back here. Maybe he'll have something that will work."

Sam nodded, "Okay, Bobby. Please hurry."

Bobby grabbed his coat and keys then rushed out. Sam turned around to look at Dean. He kept swabbing the perspiration from his face in an effort to cool him down, but he didn't think he was doing much to help. Dean then seemed to calm a bit and opened his eyes.

"Hey…" Sam said, relieved to see Dean awake.

"Hey…yourself…" Dean rasped. "I feel like hell…"

"You look it too." Sam teased.

"Gonna…have to…work…on that bedside manner there, Florence." Dean breathed with difficulty, "Water?"

Sam nodded and brought the glass over with a straw so that Dean could drink more easily and without moving too much and jar his shoulder.

"You're not getting any better," Sam said, feeling stupid for stating the obvious.

"You think?" Dean asked, grimacing with pain.

"Bobby's gone to get a doctor friend of his."

Dean nodded, "What time is it anyway?"

"Three in the afternoon. You've been out of it since last night."

"Don't remember…"

"Have you been having dreams?"

"What? Why?" Dean asked a little defensively, worried he had been talking more than he'd wanted and remembering bits and pieces of what seemed like dreams, but he wasn't sure.

"Nothing. You've been mumbling, but I couldn't make anything out," Sam lied. He knew Dean would be embarrassed to know what he had revealed.

"Oh," Dean said, not completely convinced, but he was too tired to argue with him.

"Dean?"

"Mmmm?"

"I just want you to know that I'm sorry for all the crap I've put you through." Sam paused, "I need you to know that I never would have gotten through what happened without you. I won't lie to you, man, I'm scared, but I do know that I'll be able to get through it as long I know you're there with me. I promise when you're better, no more whining, okay?"

Dean looked into Sam's eyes and spotted the welling in them and wondered what could have brought that on. Something he had said, maybe?

"Am I dying or something?" Dean joked.

"No, no, you're going to be okay. Once Bobby's friend gets here, you'll get better."

Dean noticed even through his haze that Sam was worried about him.

"We're good, Sammy and I'll always be there for you…always will…nothing's changed…just want you to…be okay…" Dean said, opting for a chick flick moment over sarcasm for Sam's sake.

Sam nodded, "I know and I am. I will be as long as we're okay."

Dean looked at Sam, partly puzzled, but also strangely reassured that Sam was being honest with him about how he was feeling.

"Go back to sleep, if you can," He said.

"Yeh, right." Dean took in a difficult breath, "Hey, Sammy, am I hot or what? Get it? Hot?"

Dean grinned as best as he could with the feeble attempt at a joke to lighten the mood.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

"Yeh, you're hot all right."

Dean closed his eyes and faded into sleep again. Sam felt better about his relationship with Dean, but worried about his fever and infection.

**oooo**

Bobby walked through the door with his friend, Jonathan Jensen when he heard a struggle in Dean's room.

"Sam?" He called out.

"Bobby, help me!"

Bobby and Jonathan rushed in to find Sam doing his best to calm Dean down, but he sounded like he was gasping for air.

"Dean woke up sounding like he couldn't breathe, then he started throwing up."

"Bobby, get the oxygen from my car," Jonathan ordered gently and Bobby complied.

"You're –"

"Jonathan. Bobby told me about your brother."

"He seemed okay a couple of hours ago. He was talking then fell asleep, but suddenly, he started to thrash around like he was having a bad dream and couldn't breathe."

"You said that he was throwing up. When did that start?"

"A few hours ago, but he seemed fine and went back to sleep."

Jonathan checked Dean's airway and was relieved to find it wasn't blocked. He put on his stethoscope to check his lungs. Another look of relief fell over his features as he found them sounding clear. No sign of pneumonia, but the vomiting worried him.

"What is it?" Sam asked anxiously.

Bobby returned with the oxygen and mask. Jonathan placed the mask over Dean's nose and mouth.

"Well, the good news is that your brother's airway isn't blocked and his lungs sound clear so he doesn't seem to have pneumonia, but I'm worried about the vomiting. Did he hit his head?"

"I don't know. I mean, he did have a fall off of a pier…but he didn't say anything about hitting his head or having headaches," Sam related, his voice cracking with worry as he thought that maybe Dean had been knocked unconscious. It would be just like Dean to hide something like that from him.

"I'm worried about a concussion. Has he had any episodes of forgetfulness like the date or who he is?"

"No, no, he's been delirious and reliving the past when he's been asleep, but when he's awake, he's known who he was, who I was and where he was."

Jonathan nodded, checking Dean's head for injuries. He found a bump and a cut with dried blood on it.

"Ah, I feel a bump and cut back here. I'll clean it and patch it. It doesn't seem serious, but we should observe him over the next few hours, ask him questions just to make sure that he doesn't have a concussion. I suspect that the fever is giving him the very vivid hallucinations and that's causing him extreme anxiety. I've brought an IV and some stronger antibiotics so let's hook him up and see if they help."

"Thanks, Doctor –"

"Just call me Jonathan. Bobby and I go way back. He saved my life." Jonathan said as he walked out to his car.

Sam looked over at Bobby and smiled. Bobby could only look away embarrassed. Sam began to wonder if he understood Dean more than he was letting on.

Jonathan had gotten Dean onto the IV without a problem. He had given him a light sedative that seemed to have calmed him down. With the possibility of a concussion, Jonathan didn't want to sedate him too heavily. He removed the oxygen mask as well since Dean was breathing normally again.

Dean was groggy as he turned to look at Sam. He was worried about how Sam looked, haggard as if he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep and he knew it was because of him. Dean had never felt so tired though he figured the loopy feeling was from some wonder drug. He was grateful for the pain relief it provided.

"Sam?" Dean said, his voice barely a scratchy whisper. "Seriously, dude, you really do look like hell."

Sam smiled, stretched and moved closer so he could hear Dean better.

"You're not looking so pretty yourself there, lover boy." Sam teased.

"Yeh, well, I'm not feeling so pretty either so I'll give on that. What happened?"

"Bobby's doctor friend, Jonathan, hooked you up to an IV and you're getting antibiotics and pain meds."

"Tell him I'd kiss him if I swung that way…"

Sam could only grin widely. He was still scared by how Dean looked no matter how hard he tried to downplay it.

"So, what's my prognosis, Florence?"

"You've still got a high fever and besides the pain meds, you're also on a light sedative. Jonathan was worried that you might have a concussion. You've been having some really violent dreams, too. Do you remember any of them?"

Dean paused to think for a minute, but all he was getting was foggy images.

"I can't remember anything specific just a lot of blur. How bad have I been?"

"You've been thrashing around like you were reliving something. You couldn't breathe earlier. I was really scared, man, but Jonathan says you're okay."

"Sam, don't worry…I'm sure whatever the dreams are they'll go away when I'm better."

Sam nodded. He then rubbed his eyes. Dean caught the gesture.

"You can do one thing for me."

"What's that?"

"Get some sleep, dude, you really need it. I promise you, I'll be okay. Bobby's doctor friend is here so catch some z's."

"Now, look who's being Florence Nightingale?" Sam teased with a smile.

"Sorry, old habits die hard…" Dean said smiling.

Sam smiled back understanding what Dean was saying. He had spent a lifetime being Sam's nursemaid, making sure he was okay.

"I'll try," Sam promised.

"Do more than try, you hear me?" Dean said, his voice fading.

"Okay," Sam said, but it fell on sleeping ears.

Sam decided that Dean was right. Jonathan was here and if anything happened, he could get his help so he had decided to stretch out on the couch next to the bed and let the fatigue put him to sleep.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**Thanks to Tiffany for being my beta for this story.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Fighting Back**

**Chapter 5**

Dean stirred, feeling worse and sick to his stomach.

"S…Sam?" He called out weakly.

He was surprised to find Bobby there.

"Bobby? Where's Sam?"

"He's okay, Dean. I convinced him to crash on the condition that I'd watch out for you."

"Thanks. He really needed to sleep," Dean said gratefully. "I hate to ask you, but I'm feeling sick. Could you -?"

Bobby just nodded and had a bucket ready for him. Dean could only dry heave into it, having emptied his stomach hours ago and he hadn't eaten for over 2 days. When he was done, Bobby helped him drink some water then laid him back down again. Bobby was worried. Dean looked ashen. Every breath was a struggle.

"Thanks for taking care of both of us, Bobby," Dean rasped with a moan accompanied with a wheeze.

"Nonsense. You needed help."

Dean nodded sluggishly.

"Bobby…I…need…you…to help, Sam…in…case…I don't…-"

"Don't you say it, you hear me? You keep fighting, Dean," Bobby insisted firmly, a touch of fear in his voice as well.

"I'm…not…getting better."

"Give it time, you've been put through hell, just rest."

"I…I need to know…Sam will be safe…if…I…can't…"

Bobby swallowed.

"He will be when you're back on your feet again," Bobby insisted gently.

Dean took in a tired breath.

"The dreams…haven't told Sam…I remember…I remember some of them…" Dean said weakly. "I watch him die…I fail him…Bobby. I…can't…save him…" Dean demurred.

"They're just dreams, Dean. You could never fail, Sam. Hell, you could never fail, period."

"I…don't…know…anymore…I…don't know…if…I…believe any more…Maybe Meg was right…maybe Sam would be better off –"

"Dean Winchester, you, of all people, should know that demons lie. Don't start believing them now, not when Sam needs to believe in you."

Bobby watched him, fearing the worst could happen despite his efforts to convince Dean otherwise.

"You have to make it, Dean. Sam has always depended on you, you know. He won't make it without you," Bobby gently tried to convince.

Dean listened to the sincerity in Bobby's voice and understood the meaning.

"You have been the foundation of your family. Make no mistake. None of them would have made it if you hadn't been there. I know you're tired and I hate telling you that you can't rest, but you can't, not now. The demon was lying. Your family has always needed you. Sam still needs you. You are the only one who can save your brother."

Bobby looked into Dean's eyes like a father would have with a son.

"Fight, Dean. Please fight. Don't let the demon win."

Dean could only nod again then he fell asleep again. Bobby looked at him and found that he was saying a silent prayer. He hadn't prayed for anyone or anything in a long time. These Winchester brothers tugged at his heart and he wanted to believe that some higher power would be on their side.

**oooo**

"SAMMY! NO!!!"

Sam heard Dean screaming and ran to his side. He had traded shifts with Bobby a few hours earlier and Dean had been sleeping peacefully it had seemed.

"Dean! Dean, can you hear me?" Sam pleaded.

"Sammy, no!!" Dean sobbed, "I'm sorry I let you down. I couldn't save you."

"No, no, Dean, I'm here. Wake up!"

Dean opened his eyes, but didn't seem to recognize Sam.

"Who are you? What did you do with Sam?"

Sam's eyes went wide with shock and horror.

"BOBBY! JONATHAN!" He screamed.

"What have you done with him?" Dean demanded. "If you've hurt him, I will kill you!"

He began to struggle against Sam.

"Dean, it's me. Don't you recognize me?"

Bobby and Jonathan rushed in and saw Sam trying to keep Dean calm. Jonathan had brought in two vials of medication and injected them both into Dean's IV.

"Sammy, I'm sorry…" Dean cried. "I let you down…"

"Dean, no, I'm here. Look at me."

"I failed you…I've failed you all our lives…" Dean continued his breathing labored and fast.

"No, no, you never have failed me, Dean. Look at me. I'm only here because you have always watched my back. You carried me out of the fire, remember?" Sam said, losing his composure.

Dean was starting to relax from the medications that Jonathan had injected in the IV and finally saw Sam there.

"Sam?"

"Yeh, it's me. I'm here."

"I didn't lose you?"

"No, Dean. And you won't. We can do this together. Please don't leave me, Dean," Sam pleaded softly.

"N..never…Sammy…only thing dying tonight is that demon…it's…not…getting any older…." Dean said reliving another night in Salvation, which seemed centuries ago now.

He then faded back into unconsciousness, as the drugs took hold. Sam turned to Jonathan, tired and weak from the effort of calming Dean and his own fears.

"What can we do? What's wrong?"

"I've given him more medications. All we can do is wait. Dean is fighting the infection. All we can do is keep him as comfortable as we can, keep pumping him with medications and hope one of them takes hold. The rest is up to his body and time. The hallucinations aren't helping to keep him calm, but I don't want to put him into a deep sedation, not with his concussion. That's riskier."

Sam nodded. He looked over at Dean, complete and utter helplessness and worry filling his body.

Sam looked over at his sleeping brother. Dean had always looked strong…except for when he had been in a coma after the accident. Though Sam was thankful for the absence of the ventilator and heart monitor, Dean's stillness now was just as unsettling.

Bobby walked in to check on Sam. Since the last episode, he hadn't been able to convince Sam to rest as he had before. He saw the naked fear in his eyes and understood so he didn't press him. He saw that fear in his own.

"Sam? You okay?"

"It's just scary to see him like this, Bobby. It's like the hospital all over again. All I could do was wait and that killed me. I need to do something. I need to help him."

"You're helping him by being here, Sam."

"It doesn't feel like it." 

"Sometimes the best thing we can do for the people we love is to be there for them. To let them know we're here."

Sam looked at Dean.

"He knows, Sam. He knows," Bobby said as he squeezed Sam's shoulder in reassurance.

He decided to pull up a chair next to Sam so he could be there for him. He didn't want to leave him alone. Truth was, he didn't want to be alone.

"Bobby, tell me how Dean was, you know, after I left for school?"

"What's to tell, Sam? You know your brother better than any of us. He was no different just because you were away at school."

"And why are you asking him?" A familiar voice croaked over from the bed.

Sam and Bobby got up from their chairs excitedly.

"Dean?" Sam said.

"You got another brother I don't know about?" Dean sarcastically joked. It was the sweetest sound Sam had ever heard.

"I'll go get Jonathan," Bobby said, but paused a second, "Good to have you back, Dean."

Bobby left the room.

"Dean, I'm not going to ask you if you're okay, but how are you feeling?"

"Like road kill, but believe it or not, that's an improvement."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as Dean turned to look at him.

"Now, what's this I hear about wanting to know how I was after you left for Stanford?"

"It's nothing."

"Don't give me that nothing stuff."

Sam looked away embarrassed as if he had been caught in a lie.

"I guess I just wanted to know if you were okay then."

"Of course I was okay, why wouldn't I be okay?"

Dean's face creased in confusion. It seemed an odd subject to bring up so many years later.

"Because I never called you back." Sam admitted quickly.

Dean, though tired, understood.

"Doesn't matter," Sam continued, "we can talk about it later. I'm just glad you're better."

Jonathan entered the room, breaking the tension and giving Sam the opportunity he needed to change the subject.

"Mind if I come in?"

"No, no, please," he said, thankful for the interruption.

Dean had never officially met Jonathan so he looked up and smiled.

"Sam tells me I owe you my life," he joked then sincerity filled his eyes. "Thanks."

"I was glad to help."

Jonathan checked all of Dean's vitals and was pleased to find everything had improved.

"So? How am I, doc?"

"I think you're gonna make it," Jonathan said with a smile, "You still have a fever, but it's dropped. We'll keep the fluids and antibiotics up, but I think you're going to be fine."

Dean heard Sam's deep sigh of relief.

"Thanks again," Sam said gratefully as he followed Jonathan out. "Get some sleep, Dean, I'll be back later."

Dean was surprised that Sam was avoiding a chick flick moment. Now, **that** wasn't normal at all. He must have said something that set it off. For now, he was too tired to call him back and just allowed sleep to overtake him.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**Thanks to Tiffany for being my beta for this story.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Fighting Back**

**Chapter 6**

After feeling up to eating some soup and toast to ease him back to solid food, Dean was feeling better and better. For Dean, just being able to sit up without the room spinning was a gigantic leap in the right direction.

"Hey," Sam said, peeking in to check on him.

"Hey yourself," Dean responded.

"You done? Should I take away the tray –"

"Sam, stop mothering me. You're making me nuts. Just sit down for a second."

"What? I'm not, I'm just –"

"We have to talk."

Sam was taken aback and struck speechless. Dean? Talk?

"Yes, you heard me, I said we need to talk. Don't get used to it."

Sam sat down slowly then bowed his head.

"Sam, what's up with you? What's all this stuff about Stanford all of a sudden?"

Sam looked up.

"Was it something I said?" Dean asked half-kidding.

Sam looked into his eyes, "No, more like, what you didn't say."

Dean was still confused, not understanding what Sam was getting at.

"You never told me you were trying to convince Dad that it was okay for me to go to school."

"So? Why wouldn't I?" Dean asked, still feeling like he was being particularly dense or something. Maybe the drugs were clouding his reasoning skills.

"Because I was leaving the family, leaving you alone to deal with Dad then you told me to apologize to Dad so I thought –"

"That I was on his side," Dean finished.

"Yeh."

"And you were pissed at me."

Sam could only nod in embarrassment.

"I get that."

"That's why I ignored your calls," Sam admitted.

Dean nodded and calmly without anger he said, "And that's why I stayed away and didn't bother you for two years."

"Because you were pissed at me and I'm sorry –"

"No, Sam, that's not why. I was mad, yeh, but not at you, mostly at Dad because he wouldn't meet you halfway. Remember what I said? It's a two way street, Sam. Dad was guilty too."

"Guess we were both pig headed." Sam sighed sadly.

"Understatement," Dean agreed.

"But if you weren't mad then why –"

"I called to make sure that you were doing okay, but when you didn't answer, I got worried so I drove over there to check up on you. Dad wasn't the only one."

Dean smiled a little wistfully, remembering how he had found Sam.

"I saw you at your dorm. You were talking with your friends. I saw you with Jessica. You were the happiest I had ever seen you. I…I couldn't take that away from you…so I left and I stopped calling…As long as you were safe, I was okay."

Dean stopped. The smile fell from his face. Sam noticed.

"What?"

"I'm sorry…"

"For what?" Sam asked, the confusion being his this time.

"For coming to get you when Dad disappeared."

"Why? You needed my help."

Dean closed his eyes and took in a breath.

"Maybe if I had stayed away, you'd still have that life with Jessica. You wouldn't be here now, scared, worrying about what's ahead. Maybe if I hadn't been selfish –"

"Dean, no. None of that was your fault." Sam insisted.

"You don't know that."

"Yeh, I do, because I was having dreams of Jess dying…" Sam swallowed hard. "Days before it happened. I was the one being selfish. I never told her…I didn't warn her. I was so determined to ignore who I was plus I didn't want her to think I was nuts. I didn't want to believe that those dreams were more than just dreams."

"Sam, you didn't know that."

"I knew they weren't normal," Sam said.

Dean looked at his brother and understood that if they were going to make it through whatever was awaiting them, they both had to get past their doubts about themselves. It didn't surprise him that they would both die for one another, but knowing that wasn't enough. They also had to live for one another.

"Look, Sam, no matter what's ahead, I want you to know that I'm solid. As long as I know that you and I are okay, I can handle everything else. I don't want you to have any more doubts about where my head is at. We can't let the past get in our way. We can fight this and I intend to win."

Sam felt a reassurance that he hadn't felt since the visions had started, maybe even longer ago than that. He hadn't felt truly safe since he was a child when he didn't have to worry as long as Dean was around. He still felt that way sometimes, but he knew that the dangers were bigger now and that Dean couldn't do it alone anymore. Those days at Stanford had been an illusion. He had never really escaped who he was or his family and now in the light of reconnecting with a brother who had never stopped protecting him and a father who had sacrificed himself knowing that Dean would be who he needed, he didn't want to. Suddenly that heritage meant everything to him.

"I know, Dean. I feel the same way. The self-pity train has left the station," Sam said with a smile.

"Now, that's funny. I'm supposed to be the funny one, you know."

"No, you're not."

**The End!**

**Thanks everyone for reading! It's very much appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it!**


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